


Touch of Evil

by cosima_geekmonkey_niehaus



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosima_geekmonkey_niehaus/pseuds/cosima_geekmonkey_niehaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canonverse fic taking place after Helena is snatched outside of Felix's loft in 2x10. Triggers for abuse and self harm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch of Evil

Helena struggled against the hands gripping her arms, twisting and turning in hopes of breaking free from the thick fingers. Her brief moment of disorientation when the bag had gone over her head was now replaced with an intense alertness as she ran over every inch of herself in her mind, determining the best mode of attack. Her senses were heightened, picking up the softest of whispers and the faintest of smells; only her skin had gone numb, refusing to acknowledge the weight of one of her assailants tugging at her wrists, the rough skin brushing along the backs of her hands.

I do not like to be touched.

One of the hands gripped tighter on her wrist while another pulled hard on her bicep, and she hissed from under the hood as she tried again to break free. A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she felt the fingers burn into her arm through her jacket.

I do not like to be touched.

She heard commotion up ahead, muffled voices and metallic sounds. Before she could come up with an image in her head, the hand on her shoulder pushed her forward and she was lifted into a vehicle, the shock of the sudden movements causing her to momentarily forget to fight back. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she began to lash out with all her limbs; the effort was futile, for no sooner had she started moving that a dozen hands descended upon her, forcing her into a seat, trapped, motionless.

I do not like to be touched.

Helena's breath was hot under the hood, and she tried to shift it with her neck but the body next to her nudged her, silently indicating that she was to stay still. She obeyed, sinking slightly back into her seat.

I do not like to be touched.

I do not like to be touched.

Tomas had her pinned to the ground, screaming in her ear, going over every one of her sins, flecks of spit landing on her cheek as she stared blankly ahead. She held back her tears and swallowed her fear as Tomas began hitting her. She had no control – she tried to wriggle free, but Tomas only dug his knee into her back, causing her to scream out in pain. He flipped her over, grabbing her wrists as he lifted her small frame off the ground, shouting inches from her face, her skin hot beneath his hands as he twisted her skin before dropping her back on the floor.

I do not like to be touched.

Helena snapped back to the present as the vehicle jostled them and Helena's head banged into the shoulder next to her. She could hear voices again, and she strained to make out what they were saying, but the gravel beneath the tires was creating too much noise. She huffed audibly in frustration, just before the hood was violently ripped off her head.

She blinked rapidly as her eyes came into focus, the bright light of the convoy harsh on her eyes after wearing the hood. She took in the men surrounding her, all wearing uniforms, all staring straight ahead. It didn't make sense that she was with these men – she had suspected it had been the Proletheans who took her again. She had no idea what these soldiers wanted with her, or what she would be put through.

I do not like to be touched.

I do not like to be touched.

Tomas stood over her, a shiny razor blade in his hand, his eyes full of anger and hate. He was telling her this was what God wanted, and she would never be saved if she didn't repent. Her tiny hands shook as she took the blade from him, afraid of what to do. Tomas sensed her fear, and he took her hand in his and forced the first long cut down her spine, the blood and tears flowing hot down her skin as he moved her hand to a fresh spot.

I do not like to be touched.

Helena stared at the soldier across from her, his eyes purposely avoiding hers. The military was an unknown for her, but she reassured herself that there would be nothing she couldn't handle. She could get herself out of any situation if she wanted to, and she certainly wanted to – she had Jesse, Alison, Cosima, Felix, Kira, Sarah. She had Sarah. Her family. She would fight to get back to them.

She began twisting her arms again, attempting to break free of her shackles. The soldier next to her grabbed both of her hands in one of his, forcing her to stop moving. She eyed him, taking note of his face, making sure she would remember him when the time for retribution came. She pulled her hands away violently, and growled slightly as he placed his hand back in his lap.

“I do not like to be touched.”


End file.
